Central Acadmey of the London Division
by Dolla
Summary: Indulge yourself in an AU story about a group of misfit reapers who eventually come together and remind each other that it's completely okay to be different. Laugh with them as they make incredibly stupid decisions, cry with them as they face fears, say yes with them as they ask out prom dates! Basically, every high school movie that revolves around the nerd getting the girl.


**BEEP BEEP BEEP.**

A small, pale hand slammed the silver button on the alarm clock. A low aggravated sigh echoed throughout the dorm as the hand threw the satin covers off the bed. His room emitted a soft, yellow glow once he pulled the curtains back, allowing sunlight to creep in.

 **Ding~**

"Hm?"

 **Ding Ding~**

Othello ran a hand through his knotted hair and whipped his head towards the buzzing device. He slid his finger across the screen and tapped. Grell had been trying to call him for the past _4_ hours, all the while acknowledging the fact that it was currently 6 o'clock in the freaking morning. Othello's eyebrow twitched in annoyance and reluctantly responded to Grell's messages.

All _32_ of them.

Obviously, the brunette knew that just one text would suffice, and ultimately answer Grell's questions about what he'll wear, whether or not he'll put on cologne, what he'll say at the podium and things of that sort, but he wanted to get her back for blowing up his inbox.

A glance at the clock that sat beside his bed. In bright, red letters it read: 6:25 AM

He really should try and get more sleep, seeing as the reunion would start in a couple hours from now. He had forgotten the exact time, but he figured he'd remember soon enough.

After all, that was how everything worked itself in his life. Othello stared at the phone screen; the blue light illuminated his face.

Othello stared at the phone screen; the blue light illuminated his face. A small smile brushed against his lips. He couldn't wait to see everyone again. The smile grew as he recalled every memory of his time at the reaper academy.

It was fun...

Well, fun as death.

 ** _FLASHBACK_**

 _Zip_. Pants check.

 _Click._ Shoes check.

 _Swoosh._ Lab coat check.

Green-yellow irises eyed themselves in the mirror while gloved hands checked items off of a paper clipped to a clipboard. He placed the pencil down and replaced it with a brush. Othello brought it up to eye level before realizing how useless it would be and subsequently tossing it absentmindedly onto the bed. He shrugged and tossed the pen and clipboard aside as well. Nothing could tame his mane.

The brunette checked the clock once more. 7:15 AM. He brought his palm to his cheek, collapsing on a purple beanbag chair, and resting his head against the wall. "Junior year of Reaper Academy and second week of school." he hummed dreamily to himself. How he made it this far, without ending his life, his _supernatural_ life, was a question he didn't even know. A laugh escaped his mouth. "Ha!"

The brunette shifted in the chair and slid down, eyes glazed.

"Othello, _the_ Othello. The one who constantly passes every exam, answers all of the teacher's questions and is the goody-goody of the class, didn't even know the answer to why he was still _trying_." He mumbled broodingly.

Seriously though. The fact that he was still trying to complete his courses amazed him. He wasn't fit to be a _reaper_. The only type of reaper everyone knew. The ones dispatched by the Retrieval Division.

Besides, the courses taught at the Central Reaper Academy of the London Divison, ( CRALD) for short, involved fitness more than anything. It demanded that students who didn't even choose to be a part of the Retrieval Division know how to defend against demons and other soul-sucking ghouls. To Othello, who was often diminished from any say in how anything was ever operated, thought the system was complete crap.

And that was what made him wonder why he still even participated in the school. Why overwhelm yourself wth things that won't even help you? Why busy yourself with total shi-

Othello leaned back further only to make a connection with the cold, hard wooden flooring of his dorm room. Despite the force of the impact he still stared at the ceiling, his mind racing with thought. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed vigorously.

Why busy yourself with people who didn't even care?

Othello blinked suddenly realizing something. His eyes blurred and regained focus quickly as he shot up straight. He whipped his head to the clock that read 7: 25. "Aw _crap."_

 _/_

Othello bolted down the hallway, ignoring the pained calls from the other students in his dorm whom he had _possibly_ bumped into. His short legs burned with every step he took. If he actually pushed himself like this in gym class then he probably would get a solid A+ without even hacking the system.

Oh yeah.

He was a hacker in his very limited free time. It had its perks.

Othello turned right and dashed down another empty hallway, heading towards the administration office. The brunette practically made it a vow to always collect his class schedule before he was actually given it by his homeroom teacher. This, of course, meant he had to hack into the school's computer system to view and _sometimes_ make corrections to the schedule. This was extremely important to him because it allowed him to change other student schedules as well. Othello skidded down the last corner of the hallway before reaching the doors of the _locked_ administration office. He placed his palms against the wood, jiggling the knob to make sure it was actually locked and that the dense-ass secretary didn't barricade the door with a filing cabinet again.

Much to Othello's displeasure, the doors gave no budge. He slapped a hand to his forehead and let out a pained grunt.

To be frank, he was over-reacting. His life did not depend on being able to see his schedule ahead of time.

Voices. He heard _voices._ Ones laced with testosterone and most likely liquor.

He slammed his gloved hands against the door.

He _needed_ to get in there.

"...So.."

Dammit! Othello's teeth clenched. His hands balled into fists which pounded on the door.

"Do you hear that?"

Othello's mouth let out a pathetic squeal as he fell on top of whoever opened the door.

"Othello?"

Othello looked up to find big, green-yellow eyes staring at him with lucid shock. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Sascha. I'm so glad it's just you."


End file.
